Justine
by Swagnon55
Summary: It all started when she woke up in her cell, confused and alone. The only clue she had to tell her how she had gotten there was an old phonograph. Twisting the crank and playing the message begins her story...


Justine

My eyelids fluttered open when I heard him—or it, more rather. I couldn't tell what was happening or what the thing really was. The hoarse, labored breaths the thing took sent chills up my spine, and the loud rattling of chains gave me a splitting headache.

I looked through the bars of my cell to see it wandering around. The sound of its loud chains and labored breaths soon gave way to a shrill ringing in my ears. My head throbbed and I fell back onto the mattress as I lost consciousness.

"Ugh," I moaned as I sat up. "Where am I?"

I was too busy worrying about the thing in the hall to really take a look at my surroundings before. Whatever that thing was, it's gone now.

I sat up and swung my legs over the wooden bed frame. It didn't take a genius to figure out that I was in a jail cell. The real question was why. I got up and tried opening the door. It wasn't surprising to find that it was locked.

"Drat," I silently cursed. I took another look around the cell and noticed for the first time a brass record player in the corner. How did I not see that before? I walked over and turned the crank. A young, French woman's voice emanated from the brass flower. It sounded soothing, yet unsettling at the same time.

"Bienvenue," the voice greeted. "You are now listening to the sound of my disembodied voice."

Lovely.

"It will serve you no purpose to look for me, for this is a voice from the past. I bid you welcome to my Cabinet of Perturbation. It is my study of the human psyche—specifically yours. It is up to you, not only to pass, but to figure out which elements are important."

I'm being tested? Why?

"Go on, move into the next chamber. Just remember, they can all be saved. There is always a way."

The voice recording ended and a rope attached to the crank simultaneously pulled the door open and lowered a lantern from the ceiling. I undid the rope holding it and took it with me. Having a light source will give me some sense of security, especially since I don't know what to expect moving ahead.

I stepped out of the cell into the damp, dark hallway. I silently prayed thanks to this woman for giving me a lantern. Advancing in complete darkness would be impossible.

I wandered the halls for a couple minutes before finding a heavy, iron door. I tested the knob and it turned. Mustering all my strength, I pulled the door open and crept into the room.

The room was dimly illuminated with torches, so I blew out the flame in my lantern. No sense in wasting oil. The room was quite large and spacious. More cells lined the walls on either side. I crossed to the closest one and opened the door with ease.

There was nothing inside, besides a small bed, much like the one in my cell, and wooden bedside table. I noticed a piece of paper with some writing on it and picked it up. I almost threw up when I noticed that it was written in blood. Written on the table where the note once rested was the phrase, "Forgive Me," also written in blood.

I shook my head to clear my mind and turned my attention back to the note. I gripped the corners, taking care not to touch the bloody ink on the page.

"Justine My Love,

I know I'm not as talented at Malo, or as strong as Basile, but I am certain my love is truer. Do my scars not tell you so? I will continue to cut myself as long as it pleases you. I would even kill Basile if you wish. I know you say you like it, but he's hurting you. I will trick him to consume the Bromide. Poor Justine, I will help. Just ask me to help.

Forever yours,

Alois"

What's going on? Who are Justine and Alois? I don't know who Basile and Malo are either.

I glanced up at the cell wall and noticed a third message smeared on the stone in blood, "I'm Sorry."

I ran out of the cell, afraid of finding any more messages. That was when I heard the chains and labored breathing again. That thing was coming back!

I ducked back into the cell and pulled the door shut, careful not to make any noise. The smell of blood was sickening, but I preferred it to any fate at the hands of that creature. I crept into the back of the cell, continuously glancing behind me. Whilst doing so, I bumped into the table, knocking it over. My heart stopped and I froze in my tracks.

"Is that you, my love?"

I clapped my hand over my mouth to suppress a gasp. That thing isn't a creature, it's a man!

"You came for me!" he exclaimed in delight.

I felt a compelling sense of compassion for the man and peeked out through the bars of the door. Upon seeing him, I suppressed another gasp and stepped back into the safety of the shadows.

If he was once a man, he isn't anymore. His pale skin seemed to glow in the torchlight as he limped around the room, creating a bloody trail. His chains rattled with every footstep. The labored breathing was due to a large, wooden cartwheel that was clamped around his neck. The worst part was his face. There were burn marks around his empty eye sockets and dried blood was caked around the edges.

"Where did you go? Come back!" the man wailed, moving back the way he came. I listened to the sound of the chains as he slowly got further and further away. When it died out completely, I crept from the cell. Brushing dust off the hem of my dress, I continued on through the chamber. There was no door at the back, so I turned around to return to the hallways.

"Hello? Is anyone there?" a muffled voice sounded from one of the cells.

I turned around and peered through the bars to find a man strapped to a table with a burlap sack over his head.

"Whoever you are, if you would help me, I would be much obliged," he said.

He obviously knew I was there, but I didn't want to respond right away. I tested the door and found that it was locked. Not exactly a shocker.

I walked away to try and find something to smash the door open with. I returned with a lead pipe. Suddenly, the man said something that made me drop the pipe and freeze in my tracks:

"Do you know where Justine is?"

Who is Justine? Everyone seems to be looking for her.

Glancing at the cell door, I found a lever on the wall next to the cell. Maybe this would open the door. I reached out to grab the lever and pulled it down.

There was a loud, clanking sound as a large, red spike lowered down from the ceiling and came to a rest just above the man's chest.

"Please! You don't have to do this!" he cried out.

I gasped and let go of the lever. Beads of sweat were forming on my forehead. I wiped them off with the back of my hand as I brushed my thick, dark hair out of my face.

Bending down to pick up the pipe I had dropped previously, I gazed at my own reflection in a puddle. My striking amber eyes were illuminated in the torch light. My ruby lips were parted slightly as I drew in quick, shallow breaths. I lifted a hand to my fair skin. My cheek was smooth and the black polish on my nails was perfect. Judging by my condition, I hadn't been in the chambers for too long.

"It's not too late to set things right!" the man's pleads brought me back to reality.

Still in a daze, I reached out and grabbed the lever. I pushed it back to its original position, hoping that the red spike would retract into the ceiling. Instead, the spike lowered even further and pierced the man's chest, killing him instantly. I let my hand slip from the lever and turned away from the man's body. I watched as a ladder dropped down, leading up to a passage in the ceiling. How clever.

What is this woman's game? She provides someone that I have to kill in order to advance in her test? What did her voice recording say?

"Just remember, they can all be saved. There is always a way."

So, I can either sacrifice an innocent person to advance, or find a way on my own? What is the purpose of this test?

I ascended the ladder to find a dark passageway. It was more of a crawlspace, really. There were a bunch of tunnels connected to it, so I followed them, dodging cobwebs as I walked. Eventually, I reached a hole in the floor of the tunnels. Peering down, I noted that it seemed to be safe. I lowered myself out of the hole and jumped down, landing gracefully on my feet.

There was a dim illumination emanating from a room on my left. As I drew closer to the door, I realized that I was walking in a thick trail of blood. I suppressed a gag and pulled open the door to an even more horrifying sight. I had entered what looked like a small torture chamber.

There were extremely detailed pictures of the man I had seen earlier hanging on the walls. Some of the drawings looked like diagrams of the torture methods that had been used on him. Looking away, I saw a small fire in an open hearth that was still burning in the back of the room. There were long, iron rods dangling over the flames. Next to the fire was a large, wooden torture table with iron cuffs—presumably to secure the victims' wrists and ankles. Beside the table was another phonograph. I twisted the crank to hear the woman giggling. She seemed to be talking to someone.

"Speak into the phonograph, Basile, mon cheri!" she giggled.

"Ugh…What did you put into the wine?" a gruff man's voice answered back.

"Absinthe, silly Basile! Strong men like you don't drink wine. Wine is for helpless women, like myself."

"My head…What is this thing? Get me out! I'm not up for your games."

"No!" she giggled again. "You have to say it first! How beautiful am I?"

"Plenty. Now let me out of this thing!"

"No! That is not what you say!" her tone was firmer now.

"Your beauty is blinding," Basile replied in quite an exasperated manner. There was a faint sizzle and the sound of metal being dropped on the stone floor. Basile then screamed out in agony.

"My eyes!" he wailed. "What have you done to my eyes?! Justine, this isn't funny! You've blinded me!"

"Ha ha! Can't catch me now!" the woman laughed with delight.

"I'll kill you, you whore!" The recording ended and there were a couple seconds of audio static before the room was silent again.

That recording definitely explained the burn marks and empty eye sockets. However, Basile's voice was deeper than that of the man's I had encountered earlier. Is it possible that the woman had tortured and blinded two men—or maybe more? Besides that, Basile had addressed the woman as "Justine." She must be the same Justine that Alois had written his letter to, and the one that the other man had asked me about.

With that information in mind, I continued searching Justine's torture chamber for clues. I crossed the room to a small, desk-like table. Sitting amid the drawings and diagrams was what appeared to be a newspaper article. I picked it up and scanned it. According to the date printed at the top, it had been issued a little over two weeks ago. I decided to read the article.

"19th of March, 1858

'Travesty at the Conservatory'

Many Parisons had gathered last night to enjoy the performance of violin virtuoso, Malo de Vigny. It was to be the grand premier of several new arrangements of songs by fellow composer, George Bizet. But the evening took an unexpected turn.

Young Malo de Vigny turned up visibly intoxicated. His violin cried as the bow was jerked across the strings. The audience seemed forgiving at first, but started to boo the man offstage as he defaced the beloved song, 'La rose et l'abeille.' The stress apparently got the best of the young musician as he threw his bow into the audience and finally collapsed.

Mademoiselle Justine Florbelle, who is according to rumors romantically involved with Monsieur de Vigny, looked quite amused by the event and had two of her friends, Basile Giroux and Alois Racien, carry him off the stage.

The evening was saved by other musicians at the conservatory who were able to perform a most impromptu concerto in Malo de Vigny's absence. The audience showered their saviors with praise, and calls for encore were awarded with spectacular pieces by Offenbach and Chopin."

I lowered the article back onto the desk. According to the information I had gathered—the note, the recording, and the article—it seems like Justine was—or is—romantically involved with three different men. More specifically, Alois, Malo, and Basile are her three suitors. I encountered one of them, most likely Alois—based on the blood messages I had found—during the first trial. So I can safely assume there will be three trials, one for each suitor.

I turned to leave the torture chamber, noticing for the first time a second brass phonograph. Hoping it would provide me further information, I turned it on.

"Congratulations for coming this far. I'm so excited for you!" Justine's voice sprang from the brass flower. "I do hope you managed to save Monsieur Fournier."

In other words, the man I accidentally murdered.

"He was a friend, and a colleague of my papa, you know. A friendly fellow, but frail of mind. He puts up an impressive front, but it is all an act, I assure you. Please go on. We are just getting started."

So she actually knew that man? I guess I should have already known that, since he had asked about her. I shook my head and reentered the hallway.

There was only one other door for me to choose. This one was wooden, and therefore significantly less menacing. I listened to the hinges squeak as I pushed it open and entered a dimly-lit corridor with wooden floors. There were two other doors on each side of the corridor, creating a total of four rooms for me to explore.

The only thing I could find in the first room on the left was an old tinderbox. I took it with me, just in case. The room next to it held very little significance as well. It only contained several stocked bookshelves and one empty one leaning against the far wall.

I headed back to the first room on the right side of the corridor. This one seemed to be much more promising. It housed a large study desk, a few portraits, a life-sized statue of a man with his head bowed, and another phonograph. I twisted the crank and waited for Justine's latest message.

"On this next piece, you'll be looking for some divine inspiration. Time to delve into your spiritual side. What do you see? Is the man begging for mercy or is he being blessed?"

I assumed she was referring to the statue.

"Perhaps both! Father used to say there were no right answers. Have the light guide you."

That was brief. The recording didn't give me any clues, so I searched the desk. All I found were a couple projection slides and a handwritten report. I pocketed the four slides and read the report:

"The tests have been going quite well. The most long term and in a sense the most promising one is the Light Box. Having Justine choose a slide, essentially a mood, for each day is a great way to see the larger overall development of her mind. She definitely reads things into the slides I had not foreseen. Her remarkable imagination turns the characters into just about anything and she is able to effortlessly reduce all her experiences into one of the four character slides."

The person who had written the report had signed the foot of the paper as "Monsieur Florbelle." That means he must have had some relation to Justine, most likely her father. The tests he was performing on her might have a connection to the reason she's performing these tests on me.

Turning to exit the room, I noticed a stack of papers on one of the decorative tables. Upon closer inspection, it appeared to be a diary of some sort. Each page was labeled "Soul Journal" at the top. I rummaged through the pile, but only four entries were legible. All the others were too water-damaged to read. The first one read:

"Justine, age 8

Today I played outside with Clarice. We saw a bird pick at a snail. It carried it off and landed on the lawn fence. The snail had a shell and it cracked. Clarice cried and I comforted her. The new maid heard us and scolded Clarice for playing with me. The bird took off into the air.

Today I was the one with open arms."

What's the significance in that entry? It seemed like just an average diary to me. I shrugged and flipped to the second entry.

"Justine, age 9

Today I played with the slides from Father's Light Box. Above all, I like the man standing to the right. Father asked why. I said he sees things he likes.

Today I was the right one."

That's the second time the Light Box had been mentioned. I was already familiar with how the test worked from the records Monsieur Florbelle had written. The last sentence written at the bottom of each entry must be referring to which slide Justine had chosen for that day. I turned to the third entry.

"Justine, age 10

Father said I picked the wrong slide yesterday when I made the chambermaid cry. He wanted me to pick the one with the sword, while I picked the one on the right. I never pick the one with the sword.

Today I was the one kneeling."

Nothing unusual with that entry. I had become familiar with the format of the notes, so I turned to the final one.

"Justine, age 11

Today Father came for me in my room. I still couldn't look him in the eyes. He said I shouldn't feel ashamed and that I was only trying to fill the void left by Mother. When he wasn't looking, I took the star stone from his collection.

Today I was the one with the sword."

Didn't she say in her previous entry that she never chose the sword? Coincidentally, that entry wasn't just the last legible one; it was the last in the pile. Something must have happened to put an end to Monsieur Florbelle's studies, but what?

I entered the next and final room. It was almost completely empty, aside from a metal box attached to the far wall. My footsteps echoed hollowly as I crossed the room.

"W-who are you?! Who's there?!" a deep, man's voice reverberated from the metal box.

I took another step closer to the metal box. There was a bared window in the upper left corner, like a window in a jail cell. Aside from that, there was a lever and four narrow slots. It was then that I realized the metal box was some kind of locking mechanism. The second hostage was being kept behind the window in the box.

I peered through the window on the box. In the darkness, I saw the outline of a torture table—much like the one in the previous room. Strapped to the table was another man with a burlap sack over his head. Each of his wrists and ankles were strapped to a corner of the table.

"Sick, twisted child," the man murmured.

I supposed that he was slowly going insane. I wasn't sure how I was supposed to save him yet, so I left the room to look for more hints.

I walked down the corridor and eventually reached a gray screen across from what looked like a slide projection box. I took the slides from my pocket and inserted one into the slide holder. I then used the tinderbox I had found earlier to light the oil lamp in the projection box. An image of a silhouetted man standing with his hands on his hips appeared. This must be one of the slides for the light box test.

I took the Soul Journal entries out of my pocket. Four journal entries; four slides; four slots on the machine. I checked the entry where she picked man on the right for her slide. It was the second entry, so I took the slide out of the Light Box and marked it with a "2" in the corner.

I popped another slide into the box. This one depicted a man holding out a sword. I looked it up in the Soul Journal and marked the corner of the slide. I repeated the process for the other two slides and returned to the room with the metal box and the man.

"You'll burn for this…You'll BURN for this!" the man was still rambling on the table.

I inserted each slide into the slots, making sure they were in numerical order. My hands quivered and a cold sweat beaded on my forehead as I reached for the lever. Pulling down slowly, I heard chains behind the box rattle and metal cuffs snap.

"Watch out for Justine. That demon—she may still be close," the man warned. I then heard footsteps and the sound of a door opening. Good, at least someone's getting out of here alive.

Walking back to the main corridor, I heard sounds of wood scraping across the hall. I went to the room and noticed one of the bookshelves had been pulled out, revealing a passageway. I went through the passage and down a wooden staircase. Luckily for me, there was another brass phonograph at the bottom. I turned the crank so I could hear what Justine had to say.

"I wonder, is Father David with his God now? Maybe you helped him there. Don't you worry. I'm sure he didn't have a family. He probably wasn't even that well-liked. With the current political climate, I'm surprised someone hasn't killed him already. We can't all be saved. Some don't even want to be saved. Yes, that is a comforting thought. Saves us from trying."

It was hard to tell if she was trying to comfort her test subject for possibly killing the priest, or simply stating her opinion on the matter. Most likely the latter; Justine doesn't seem like the kind of person who would care about other people's feelings.

I continued down the hall until I found a heavy, steel door. Swallowing my fear, I opened the door and stepped into the room. It was unbearably dark, but not so much so that I couldn't see. What really set me on edge were the wheezing and rattling chains echoing from the depths of the room.

"I have you now," a very familiar voice rasped through the darkness.

I froze in my tracks. There was no mistaking it. That was Basile's voice!

I glanced up and saw him. His arms had retained some of his muscle in his arms, but every other part of his body was withered. I knew he was blind because of what the recording told me. The chains rattled, and the cartwheel squeaked as he hunted through the basement. Basile must think that I'm Justine!

I ducked against a wall, brushing aside some potatoes on the floor with my foot as I did so. Basile's head turned in my direction, flashing his empty, bloody eye sockets.

"Yes, keep making those sounds," he hissed with a smile.

I slowly knelt down and picked up a potato. Making sure my elbow didn't hit the wall, I threw it across the room. It made contact with a stack of boxes, knocking them over.

"You thought you would get away, didn't you?" Basile snarled, walking in the direction of the crash.

I took the opportunity to sprint across the room and open the door.

"Get over here!" Basile raged as he chased me towards the door, realizing that he'd been tricked. "I'll rip your head off!"

I closed the door behind me, snapping an iron padlock in place. Basile pounded on the door, cursing Justine's name. I took a deep breath. There was no way Basile could possibly break down the door in his condition.

I continued down the hallway, eventually coming to the next phonograph. It rested right before a downward leading staircase. The stairs led down into a flooded area with water that came up to around my ankles. A little further through the flooded hallway, was another door. Sighing at the thought of splashing through the dirty water, I turned the crank to hear Justine's hints for the third trial.

"I'm sure you have figured out how it all works by now. Are you enjoying my quips? I think they are quite clever. Not that I was ever much of a conversationalist. Poetry has always been my forte. But I digress. You should press on. It will all be over soon. Also, the police are here. Maybe they can help you."

Something about the way she said that makes me think that the police aren't going to be of much help to me.

Sighing, I lifted up my dress skirt and stepped into the sewer water. The cold water sent a chill up my spine and I involuntarily shivered. Moving forward, I pulled open the wooden door. The water caused some resistance on the door as I yanked on the knocker.

The bowels of the sewer were huge. On either end, there were two open doorways, and a closed wooden door on the far side. My feet splashed loudly as I crossed the room to the closed door. I noticed that there was no handle or knocker. It didn't even have any hinges. Next to the door was some kind of mechanism. It appeared to be some kind of lever-pulley system, except the lever was missing. Justine must have snapped it off and hidden it.

I splashed across to one of the rooms and found some kind of flooded office. There were books floating around in the water and toppled shelves and desks were sunken to the shallow bottom, not even completely concealed by the water. On the far side of the room, there was a table supported by some boxes. I walked across and picked up the silver lever that rested on the table.

Returning to the door's mechanism, I snapped the lever back in place. I grasped the handle with both hands and gave a firm tug. The inner workings of the door's locking mechanism loudly started grinding together and the wooden barrier began to ascend out of the water. I started to duck under the door when I heard the unthinkable:

"Bonjour!" followed by a demonic laugh and a long, rasping wheeze.

It was Malo, the third suitor! I had to move, and fast. I looked to the left and found another lever on the wall. I quickly pulled it and ran for the other side of the room. The door slammed down with a splash. I heard the rasps and chains as Malo pounded viciously on the woodwork.

The door on the other side of the chamber was shut too. There was no locking apparatus on the door, so I quickly ran off to investigate.

There was a gear sitting on a table in one room, so I picked it up and darted across the chamber to the next room. Malo was still brutally attacking the door as I passed. Some of the boards were starting to give way. I panicked and ran even faster.

This room housed a gear system with one missing spot. I quickly jammed the gear in place and pulled the lever next to the machine. The device started grinding, but I didn't have time to stop and watch. I sprinted back as the door was opening. At the same time, Malo had broken a hole in the wooden door. I quickly made my way through the door and yanked the lever as Malo busted down the first door and lunged across the room. His speed was incredible considering his condition.

"Hey, you!" a voice called out. I looked over to find a man secured to the wall with metal clasps. He wore a policeman's cap and uniform. This is what Justine must have meant when she said the police were here.

"Help me out of here and I'll call my men to get us out of this hellhole!" he shouted.

I quickly glanced back and found that Malo had already broken down the door and was clumsily stepping through the shattered woodwork. His chains rattled loudly as they dragged over the broken pieces of the door.

I locked eyes with the imprisoned policeman for about one full second before darting off and leaving him.

My feet created thunderous splashes in the water as I ran. Even though Malo was blind, the sound of the water was obviously alerting him to my whereabouts. I didn't dare turn around for fear that he would be right behind me.

"Justine, let me taste you!" I heard the insane suitor taunting me as I ran. Like Basile, Malo must have thought I was Justine.

I approached a four-step staircase and darted up out of the water. Now that my steps weren't as loud, it would be easier to hide. I was quickly running out of breath, so I turned down the only open corridor and ducked behind a crate. Sure enough, Malo came walking down the narrow hallway. His chains scraped the stone floor as he searched for me.

"Hide and seek…Hide and seek…" Malo mumbled as he bumped around the hall.

I tensed up as he drew closer to my hiding spot. I didn't notice it before, but he seemed to have bites taken out of his arms and legs. He carried quite a repulsive scent too.

"I grow tired…of my own flesh," he sighed to himself.

Oh my God! Has this man been driven so insane that he practices cannibalism?! That explains what he had said while chasing me through the sewers.

I waited a little longer until he wandered back towards the water.

"Come out. You'll like what I have planned," Malo called out menacingly as he walked down the corridor.

I jumped out from behind the crate and sprinted down the dark hall. I heard Malo exhale an angry wheeze and start chasing me again. Not daring to look back, I sprinted until I reached a heavy iron door. I quickly yanked it open and ran through, locking it behind me. Malo angrily banged his fists on the other side, but it was to avail. The deranged cannibal couldn't get through this door.

Sure enough, Justine had a phonograph set out for me. I activated it and her voice flowed from the machine.

"Inspector Marot, are you still with us? I'm looking forward to seeing if you managed to save him or not. I know very little about him, but surely he had a family, don't you think? Poor, poor fatherless children. But he falls on his own sword. His kind aren't meant to come for people like me. Laws are made for cretins! The aristocracy doesn't need to know right from wrong. We are always right."

If anything, that message showed a lot about Justine's beliefs. If she truly thinks that she isn't doing anything wrong by issuing these tests, then there really isn't anything to stop her from doing what she's doing.

I turned and continued down the hall until I reached another open room. Surprisingly, the floor seemed to be made of dirt. As I explored a bit, I found that it was a small graveyard. There were six holes, each wide and deep enough to hold a body. Small headstones rested at the tops of each grave. Some listed the hostage's names, like Inspector Marot, and others listed the suitor's names, such as Basile Giroux.

Off in the corner of the room, I discovered an expansion. I found a grave that already had someone resting in it and a large, elegant statue of an angel.

I ran my hand across the headstone. The inscription read "Isabelle Florbelle," presumably Justine's mother. Why is her grave down in the basement with all of Justine's victims? If I recall correctly, it was mentioned in Justine's Soul Journal that her mother had passed when she was very young. I still don't get why she would be buried here though.

I gazed up at the angel statue. It was probably erected as a likeness to Justine's mother. As I gazed at the statue, I recalled very faint voices in my head. It was a conversation between a little girl, and a grown man.

"What was mother like?"

"She was the most beautiful creature ever to grace this world."

"I can't remember what she looked like, no matter how hard I try."

"Her beauty was blinding, Justine. We could never hope to chain such memory to our minds. It would be too much to bear."

Why was I recalling memories that didn't belong to me? I shook my head and wandered off, crossing to a second groove in the room's overall shape. This one also held a filled grave and a headstone.

The inscription on the headstone was brief; it simply read "Father." There were no clues to hint when Justine's father had died, but if her mother was down here then I can see why her father would be too.

I walked around behind the grave. A little inscription was carved into the back of the headstone. It read:

"It all made sense, he thought. We all appreciate symmetry. Everyone is comforted by the casuality of logic. It gives the impression grand plan and that we may be able to grasp the inner workings of this perfect universe.

You see, his wife died giving birth to his daughter. That is why he was able to forgive. His family was just giving in to the symmetry."

The words made it seem that her father's character was defined by his wife's death.

I walked back around to the front of the grave and found a piece of paper half-buried in the dirt. I carefully picked it up and brushed it off. By the looks of it, it was an un-mailed letter. I held it by the light of my lantern and began to read.

"Herbert,

I have contacted the consulate and they said they will send you the permits you need for visiting Algeria. I wish you good luck on your search and that your findings will come at a lower price than mine.

I am at a loss with my studies. My daughter has become distraught and distant. I did little to control her behavior, yet I believe the very notion of my observation has made her this way. My scientific indifference to our tests has not left her with an indifferent opinion. She finds my lack of reaction disappointing. She judges me, and most importantly herself, by the results of the tests.

The reason I have had trouble finding any consistency within her character is because she tries different approaches to provoke me and her efforts only become more and more disturbing. Yesterday I lost myself and scolded her. She was terrified and humiliated.

It saddens me greatly to bring my studies to a close without seeing it to the end, but I can no longer justify my research. I have to mend my relationship with my daughter.

Monsieur Florbelle"

It seems odd that this letter was never mailed out and even stranger that it was half buried in Monsieur Florbelle's grave. Maybe it hints to his time of death.

I decided that I'd had enough of the graveyard and made my way to the door on the far side. Next to the large, wooden double doors was what I assumed to be the last phonograph. I gripped the crank and turned it in a clockwise motion. Justine's familiar voice floated out of the dull, brass flower.

"Well done! You have triumphed; conquered my Cabinet. I wish I could tell you how you did, but alas, this is just a recording. You will have to figure it out all by yourself. Did anyone survive? The doctor? The priest? Or perhaps the policeman? Who was allowed to live? Why? You should really reflect on these past events and consider what they meant to you—what you have learned about your true nature."

There was a pause. Assuming she was done, I began to walk away. However, the sound of her voice brought me back.

"Father never knew me. He thought he did, but then he was frightened. And nothing was ever the same again. I can still see him lying there on the floor. He looked so surprised."

There was another brief pause before Justine began to recite a short, four-line stanza.

"The star-shaped soapstone stained by his blood fell to the floor with a sonorous thud. Blame me not for I was but a child. With careful ambition, I dared a smile—rest in peace, Papa."

Let me get this straight. Not only did Justine murder her own father, she doesn't even seem to care. Apparently, she was also a child when she committed the act. I thought she was sadistic before, but this is just too much.

I pushed open the doors and entered some long, winding passages. The scent of the air was repulsive, almost as bad as Malo. Upon further investigation, I found that the walls were covered with messages, all written in blood. Everywhere I turned, there was a different message. I didn't stop to read any of them. I'm not sure if it was from the smell or the thought of the messages being in blood, but I began to feel nauseated. Tears were streaming from my eyes as I sprinted through the passages. Pure desperation almost drove me to insanity as I ran through the tunnels, striving for salvation.

It took what felt like an eternity, but I finally found a small door. I couldn't get it open fast enough. I almost fell into the stone chamber, gasping for fresh air. I slammed the door shut behind me, hoping to trap any memories of that place back in the tunnels.

"And so it comes to an end," the voice of Justine made me jump.

I glanced up to find the brass speaker of a phonograph, along with the inner workings of the machine looped around a dead man hanging off the ceiling. A burlap sack concealed his face.

"Now that you have seen what you truly are, you are able to face eternity without fear—without doubt."

With that, the walls began to close in on me. I panicked and ran back to the door only to find that it was locked from the other side. I spun around and noticed some gears turning. I picked up a rock on the ground and tried shoving it between the gears. The stone glanced off the metal framework and shot back towards me. I ducked, narrowly dodging it. The walls were still pushing towards me and I was out of ideas. My thoughts muddled as I began hyperventilating and collapsed to the floor. The darkness crept over my eyes and I passed out.

My eyelids fluttered open and I drew in a single deep breath. I watched the walls recede back into their proper place.

"This…This was the best one yet," I said aloud. "So elaborate; it's just too much."

I blinked and shook my head.

"Enough of this. Get up, Justine," I mentally kicked myself and clambered to my feet.

The door leading back into the Cabinet began to shake and rattle as someone struggled with the lock. I walked over and lowered the crossbar to secure it.

"It's already locked, but you can never be too certain," I reminded myself.

"No! Stay!" Alois wept on the other side of the door.

"I found you once, I'll find you again," Basile's voice accompanied him.

I giggled at their silly threats and pleading before crossing to the stair door on the other side of the room. I exited the basement and made sure the lower door was locked tight.

"Don't want any of the guests coming in here," I said before ascending the staircase leading to my parlor room.

"Mademoiselle Justine, are you down there? Is everything all right?" my housekeeper and friend, Clarice, called down.

"Of course, Clarice, I'm quite all right," I answered back. "Is everything ready for tonight?"

"Yes, the goose is ready any minute now. The guests should be arriving within the hour."

I reached the top and locked the basement door. I would have to bathe before my guests arrived. Traversing the Cabinet had left me quite dirty.

"Did I hear voices from downstairs?" Clarice asked.

"I certainly hope not," I replied.

"Oh, silly me!"

"Yes, silly Clarice."


End file.
